BOY HOWDY have I been crafty today. It’s like someone squeezed my fucking ovaries or something. I have been working on a project I put aside months ago, which is a conversion of an old medicine cabinet into a jewelry box. And I have been painting the bathroom. Go me. Go spring mania. The sun is back.
Box and Titties. Okay, no titties. But don’t you want to sing that now?
Oh to the motherfucking ho-ho-ho, bitches, my Vurah Special Box from Wyoming came today. That was nutty-fast. I’m glad I didn’t drop the extra forty bone for express shipping. Come ON. How much faster is less than a week, anyway?
Franny peeps in unbridled curiosity. She did not know I was getting a box. I got her a wee apron when I was in WY, so she can be all Encyclopedia Domestica like me.
She fucking flipped her lid when I opened the box.
This was almost as good as “First Goatse.”
Don’t worry Franny, it’s only Jimi.
“Oh, Mom, really?” she said. She was slightly aghast. “He scares me a little.”
“Well,” I said, “I think that’s because humans are supposed to be scared of things that look like that.”
ETA: Wee coyote? I don’t know.
You know what, though? I am not going to take any shit from someone who dresses as a colorblind superhero in my backyard. Booyacah.
“JEEEMEE! Fox! Fox! Socks! Socks!” Strudel said.
Companion came home later.
“I was not sure at all how that was going to go for me,” he said. “Once I heard that you bought a fox head while you were gone.”
“And now?”
“Yeah, Jimi’s cool.”
Saint Jimi presides over our meals. I imagine he will be decorated seasonally, for holidays and such. I have always wanted to get a taxidermied head. And now that I’m a little older, I’m like, fuck it. I yam what I yam.
Strudel tries on my partay apron. Hells yes I’m going to party like it’s 1963 in that apron. If teleporting was invented, I would waste that wondrous technology by teleporting to and fro Wyoming flea markets. DOPE!
Mommy Party
Daniel‘s mother is in town. I have known her since I was sixteen, and she was kind of like a second mom to me. (She was known for taking in strays.) I told her tonight that she was the first person I ever met who didn’t make being a mom seem like a fucking millstone around your neck that was dragging you down to the bottom of the ocean. Other mothers made it seem like their children were some kind of inevitable curse.
Once I walked three miles to get to her house and I have slept on her couch after quarreling with my parents. Actually, my stepdad. I remember that my mom called there in the morning after she woke up and figured out what happened. Daniel’s mother looked into the living room. “Oh, yeah, she’s here.”
She told me a funny story tonight that I don’t remember. Daniel and I and some of our friends were heading out to Lollapalooza ’94, and her parting words were, “Have fun, but don’t have too much fun.”
Apparently I retorted, “My mom said I could have too much fun.” I don’t think I was being a smartass. My mom probably did say this.
Anyway, it is nice to hear things like that from people who’ve known you from whoa back.
I walked home and saw the little slivery moon and it was nice.
Next Babydaddy of the Day
Ben Mollin is ASS and TITTIES. Thank you Miz Broad.
For Scot-san, who is always wise to me.
You forgot the Carla Niven filter: Sharpen x an umptillion!
Otherwise, it’s very…Koons or something. I approve.
;)
You are missed!
That fox head looks giant like a wolf. I thought it would be smaller.
I think it’s a white fox. I googled up WY foxes, because I thought it was weird, too.
That does it, I’m starting an SJ Fan Club.
That’s some FINE are, there. How am I wise to you? Or wise AT ALL, for that matter.
are = ART
Scott = ‘tard
Now I’m starting to think it’s a coyote head.
Isn’t it booyakaSHAH?
Awesome. Ben is going to love that you’re helping with his quest for world domination.
My library-fu tells me that there are 46 subspecies of fox. The largest, the red fox (Vulpes vulpes), can get up to just over 24lbs. I think you might be right that it’s a coyote. That trickster! They’re all Canidae, though.
Thank you, librarian. Hmm…mislabeled. I still like Jimi.
Sweet strudel tutorial! HAHA Funny how well it goes together! Jimi is pretty cool, but he may scare you in the night. Put some glowy eyes in there for the kids. hehe kidding of course!
Holy crap, I want to make out with you.
I’m casting my vote for coyote (kah yee’ oat).
If I write you an email angrily telling you that you are worthless human scum, will you post it with a rebuttal, thereby both validating it and giving more fuel to those like me who would dare to have opinions differing from yours?
Do what now? Probably. Actually, I will send you an email saying OH NOES, what about the children?
That looks way more like a coyote to me than a fox…
Hm. Ben Mollin. I dunno. I think you are good where you got.
Wow. Brain problems. In the time I saw the haircut song I totally forgot about the stuffed head. Who could do that? It’s sad what’s happening to me.
I think that is one of the finer stuffed heads I have ever laid eyes on. It has a friendliness that will bring you joy for years to come I believe.
It’s a coyote. Trust me. We have them and foxes all over ’round these parts.
Also re: the head: Sweet Mary what is wrong with you that is a HEAD. And it is on your WALL. I am laughing, but also alarmed.
I do look forward, though, to the post about the time you’ll go into the kitchen at three in the morning to get a glass of orange juice, having forgotten it was there until you saw its glass eyes gleaming in the dark, and you’ll scream and fling the orange juice at it because you think it’s a demon robot like the one in *Labyrinth*.
My guess is your aim will be pretty good, but that you will have to wipe orange juice off the iPod.